


Forthright

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [57]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Misunderstandings, Polyamory, referenced sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: “He knows.”“He absolutely doesn’t,” Hank replied, not bothering to look up from his phone.Nines didn’t frown, didn’t smile, and clearly didn’t believe him. Connor narrowed his eyes at his desk and put a little more effort into the report he was working on, forcing his processors to pick up the pace to keep his LED cycling red. For all of Nines’s upgraded hardware, he still couldn’t tell what Connor was doing internally— at least, he couldn’t without interfacing. To interface, they needed to touch. And they weren’t touching now. Not even slightly.Nines would have to leave Hank’s side for more than two minutes to make that possible.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson/Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Series: Works for Others [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/378145
Comments: 16
Kudos: 232





	Forthright

**Author's Note:**

> the lovely briweicreative on twitter humbly requested some hank1700 angst with a happy ending and i of course had to deliver. enjoy!

“He knows.”

“He absolutely doesn’t,” Hank replied, not bothering to look up from his phone.

Nines didn’t frown, didn’t smile, and clearly didn’t believe him. Connor narrowed his eyes at his desk and put a little more effort into the report he was working on, forcing his processors to pick up the pace to keep his LED cycling red. For all of Nines’s upgraded hardware, he still couldn’t tell what Connor was doing internally— at least, he couldn’t without interfacing. To interface, they needed to touch. And they weren’t touching now. Not even slightly. 

Nines would have to leave Hank’s side for more than two minutes to make that possible. 

Nines didn’t leave his side. He shifted a little, looking towards Connor with that furrowed look on his face that he always wore when he was worried. Connor pretended not to notice, swapping his vision focus to his peripherals to maintain his watch without breaking his cover. 

“He’s been acting differently towards us lately,” came Nines’s low murmur. “What else could it be but that?”

At that, Hank lowered his phone and gave Nines one of his patented unimpressed looks. “Different how?” he asked flatly. “He’s been the same old Connor to me.”

Nines’s expression went just as flat as Hank’s tone. “I just don’t think we should rule out the possibility,” he murmured, lowering his voice. Connor tried not to wince at that. It was as if Nines assumed he  _ was  _ listening in and was taking efforts to work against it. 

He winced again when Hank’s expression softened. His dark eyes fell to half mast, his lips curling into a fond, almost loving, smile. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t get your panties in a bind. It’ll happen when it happens. It’s fine. We’re fine. Right?”

His hand came up and settled on Nines’s waist, high enough to be visible but still low enough to escape the attention of anyone not watching closely. Nines tried to look disapproving—they were at work after all, and Connor was here—but failed, just as Connor did at holding back the bevy of emotions churning through every part of him. Nines sighed an almost imperceptible sigh and covered Hank’s hand with his own, pulling it away from his waist with a slowness that dripped with reluctant responsibility. 

“Yes,” Nines said quietly, his normally flat voice inflected ever so slightly with emotion. “We’re fine. I just can’t help being antsy. You’re free tonight though, right? I thought maybe after work we could try asking—” 

Connor promptly stopped listening. He even went as far as to turn off his non-emergency auditory functions. Silence wrapped around him in an instant. Maybe that had been a mistake. It only made his thoughts seem that much louder. 

If it had purely been physical, Connor wanted to believe he could have accepted it. If it had just been blowing off steam, experimentation, even just an accident, he could have… It wouldn’t have made him feel all that much better, but it would have been easier to stomach. It just… It made no sense. Connor had known Hank the longest. He’d deviated at Hank’s side, deviated in large part to the man’s direct intervention. Maybe it was too romantic of him to think that they had saved one another with the completion of their first case. Maybe Connor had just… read things wrong. But still, what sense did it make? Nines had come to the precinct months after Connor. They had the same face, but that was where the similarities began and ended. 

Of course… maybe it was their differences that drove Hank towards Nines over him? Nines was big, muscled, taller than Connor by a few inches and definitely of a different body type completely. His social skills weren’t…  _ lacking,  _ per se, but they’d undergone significant development when he first joined the DPD. By necessity. Maybe that allowed him to develop a personality Hank liked.

Connor narrowed his eyes and assessed Nines carefully. He could see flickers and traces of his own mannerisms in the way Nines held himself, in how he leaned over Hank’s shoulder to scan the documents on the desktop. It could be that Nines’s own deviation from their core programming resonated in a way that appealed to Hank more as a sexual and romantic partner. Connor had developed amid stress, tension, and outright bigotry. Nines, on the other hand, had been awakened and inculcated to the force with care and general—if not terse—welcome. People hadn’t distrusted him the way they had distrusted Connor. They were a little intimidated, but they warmed up to him quickly enough— 

Connor suddenly realized that he no longer needed to run his background program to keep his processors active. The stress of his current line of thought did the work for him. His hands tightened into fists in his lap. That had to be it, right? The sheer chaos of his own deviation had led to the development of a personality incompatible with others. Nines’s hadn’t and— 

“Connor!” a loud voice called out, finally penetrating the frankly frighteningly loud sound of his internal processors whirling away between his ears as the outside override responded to the tone and volume of his name. Connor jerked his head away from his papers, the voice still ringing in his head, and looked up at the last person he wanted to see right now. 

_ A lie,  _ a traitorous voice chirped somewhere in the back of his mind.  _ You want nothing but Hank’s attention.  _

The thought came and was summarily ignored. Connor schooled his face into its default expression and looked at Hank with more calmness than he felt. “Sorry, Hank,” he said apologetically. “Did you need something?”

Hank frowned. Connor didn’t miss how his eyes flicked towards Nines half-leaning against the desk he’d just vacated. That hurt too. Everything hurt. 

Connor sat a little straighter as Hank looked down at the reports on his desk. “We were trying to get your attention for almost a minute there. What’s got you so distracted?”

Connor resisted the urge to cover the reports with his hands. It was just a simple write up, nothing challenging in the slightest. He shrugged instead, choosing to remain silent. He felt that if he tried to speak to Hank right now he’d just say something petty, childish. Bitterness tinged beneath his skin. Jealousy hadn’t been an emotion he’d thought himself capable of before catching them in the act. Just another revelation to add to the growing pile. 

They had been at work of all places when he saw them. Hank had been working late to process dozens of reports that went along with a narcotics bust he’d managed to orchestrate on his very first assignment with Nines. Fowler had put them together on a temporary basis— was forced to, really, after Connor had taken a sizable measure of damage about halfway through the case. Androids didn’t need to convalesce the same way humans did after workplace injuries, but the damage had been bad enough and the replacement parts rare enough that he had been grounded for a few weeks while they were manufactured and shipped in.

Connor tried not to blame himself for them getting together. It hadn’t been his fault that he’d been injured and forced out of the precinct. It hadn’t been his fault that the new laws protecting android rights resulted in new company policy over parts replacement and manufacturing details. The red tape surrounding his injury slowed things down all the more. It hadn’t been Connor’s fault that it took just enough time for Hank to realize that Nines was the one he wanted, not him. 

They had been working late at the precinct. Connor wasn’t supposed to go in yet, but he had heard the news about the bust and wanted to congratulate them in person. A surprise. 

Looking back on it now, the thing that had hurt most in catching the two of them wasn’t seeing them in the act itself. It wasn’t hearing the sounds or witnessing Nines bent over the desk. It was staying just long enough to hear Hank groan Nines’s name. Seeing him wrap his hand around Nines’s neck, cupping his chin, to bring him around for a kiss that overpowered the frenetic pace of their coupling as they… as they just lost themselves in one another. Like nothing else mattered. Like no one else ever could. 

Hank waved his hand in front of Connor’s face. “Is something off with you? It’s not like you to be this much of a space cadet.”

Before Connor could formulate a reply—let alone determine if he wanted to reply at all—Hank turned towards Nines once more. “Hey, Nines!” he called out, waving the other android over. “Do the hand thing with Connor and see if those engineers put him back together right.” 

Nines barely had time to stand up before Connor found himself recoiling. “No!” he said sharply— and he immediately realized it was  _ too  _ sharp. Hank froze at his side and Nines’s blank mien instantly morphed into an inquisitive one. Connor scrambled for some way to deflect, for some convenient distraction to save him from the deluge of questions already forming on Hank’s lips in slow motion. 

But the bullpen was practically empty, and there were no distractions in sight. 

Time resumed as he rose from his seat. Hank was forced to take a step back just as Nines took a step forward. Warm, big hands wrapped around Connor’s shoulders, holding him in place before he could extract himself completely from the situation. “Connor?” Hank said with worry dripping from his voice. “Just have a seat, okay? We’ll figure it out for you.”

That was the last thing Connor wanted right now, but he found having Hank’s hands on him came in very close second (another lie, another big, fat lie). 

“I’m fine,” he said, which was another lie to add to the growing pile. He tried to shy away from Hank’s touch, but the man just held firm as Nines drew ever closer. “Really. I was just focusing on my report earlier, tuned some things out. I’m fine, everything is functioning as it should be—”

“Then it won’t hurt anything to have Nines check to make sure,” Hank rumbled, his voice echoing through Connor’s entire body given how closely they were pressed together like this. “Right?” he said, clearly addressing Nines now. “It’s just that interface thing you guys do. It won’t take long.”

“It shouldn’t,” Nines said, and it clearly spoke to his own concern that he voiced the reply at all. Typically he wasn’t much one for speaking unnecessarily when everyone present already knew the answer. It gave Connor the distinct impression that he was a small, frightened animal being coaxed out from under a bed, necessitating soft words and slow movements lest he strike out and bite the helping hands in front of him. 

“Really, I’m—”

“Connor, seriously, just humor me,” Hank said, a little sharper this time. “It’s not like you to be so out of it. We’re just worried about you.”

Connor felt his thirium pump stutter in his chest. It wasn’t the same kind of worry. They didn’t care about him like that, but god, he wanted to pretend otherwise. Hank’s hands smoothed down his shoulders, bracketing his elbows loosely. Connor tried not to shiver as Hank gave them a gentle squeeze before lifting one of his hands towards Nines. 

Nines mirrored the position, clear blue eyes looking into his own as if searching for the problem at hand. “I’ll make this fast,” he said like a promise. Again, unnecessary. All interfaces were fast. That was the nature of the link. 

The feeling of Nines’s hand clasping his own felt warm. Warm like Hank holding him, warm like the two of them pressing in on him, like— 

The flesh of their hands bled into white, and Connor immediately realized that he absolutely shouldn’t have let them get this close. He stiffened in Hank’s grip and tried to clamp down on the thoughts rolling around in his head. But it was too late. 

The exchange took less than a second to complete, but for Connor it felt like an eternity. An eternity of dread, of bitterness, of reliving every single moment he saw of the two of them together, the two of them  _ happy  _ with nothing but each other, and the horrible awareness that Nines was seeing—was  _ feeling— _ every ounce of it. 

The first time he saw them together.

_ “That feels so good, Hank,” Nines purred, face down and bent over the desk as Hank rolled against his raised ass. No rush, no hurry, just sweet, slow, filthy.  _

_ “You’re not half bad yourself,” Hank returned, considerably more out of breath.  _

The in between moments, the aftermath of cases where one came too close to a grisly end. 

_ “Hey, cheer up,” Hank said softly, his big hand resting on the back of Nines’s neck. “We got him in the end.” _

_ “You nearly got shot, Hank,” came Nines’s rasp of a voice. Connor hadn’t missed how he leaned into Hank’s touch, how he seemed to crave it like it grounded him.  _

_ “But I didn’t. You didn’t. We got the guy and we’re both still here to bicker about the paperwork.” _

_ Nines smiled so carefully that it was practically invisible to those who didn’t know him well. He lifted his hand and covered Hank’s with it. “You’re doing it all, by the way,” he informed Hank. “I think that’s a better punishment than making you sleep on the couch.” _

Hank’s laugh. Nines’s smiles. Connor watched them more than he paid attention to his own work. It showed, too. He had a lot of little moments like that stored inside his data centers. He had even more where he’d worked his own presence into them, just to pretend for a little that he was a part of it all too. 

_ “Come on, Con,” came Hank’s loud voice, beckoning him from across the room. “It’s time to call it a night.” _

_ Connor lifted his head from his work, blinking himself back to awareness. “Oh,” he said, realizing the time. “I’m almost done. Why don’t you go on ahead?” _

_ Heavy hands settled on Connor’s shoulders from behind, Nines’s soft lips brushing against his cheek. “Come home with us, Connor,” he said quietly. “It’s no fun if you aren’t there too.” _

Stupid. It was all so stupid and self-indulgent, fantastical to the point of self-flagellating every time he came into work and saw it wasn’t real. He tried to hold it in, to block the memories from the livewire of connectivity linking them together… but it was no use. The thoughts were too prominent, too overwhelming to bar from view. They rushed out in a downpour too strong to quell and far too bitter to take. Connor felt Nines’s hand slacken as his advanced processors disseminated the information and broke it down. He tore his hand away as soon as he felt able to, cradling his hand against his chest as the white gave way to flesh toned skin once more. 

Nines, though, stayed locked in place, hand still outstretched. His eyes had widened a little. His lips were parted in a slight gape. 

“What?” Hank asked, oblivious to the existential panic threatening to force Connor into stasis. “What’s gotten into him?

Nines looked gobsmacked. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. He looked at Connor as if Connor had just pulled the rug out from under his feet. As if he were about to tell Hank and do the exact same thing to him too. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that. Hank would hate him if he knew. Connor… He couldn’t take it if he knew too. 

“Nines?” Hank said, crossing his arms expectantly. 

He couldn’t let that happen. 

“It’s…” Nines began, eyes flicking between Connor and Hank like he wasn’t sure how to word it. 

So, Connor did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran. 

It was an easy thing to dart to the left and dip around Hank. The man wasn’t spry, and he certainly hadn’t predicted Connor bolting like this. Connor tucked his arms close to his body and ran the rapid-fire projections, ducking right around Gavin’s desk cluster and then vaulting the stray chair left out in the middle of the aisle way. He heard the sound of Hank’s startled cry, then the crackle of a sigh as Nines turned on his heel and took off after him. Connor pitched forward and ran faster. Hank might have been easy to evade but Nines was a different story entirely.

He reached the hallway. The elevator was out. It could be hacked, and waiting for it would take up precious seconds that he just didn’t have. He made for the stairs just as Nines rounded the hall, a burst of “Connor, wait!” on his lips that Connor didn’t heed in the slightest. Connor ripped open the door to the stairwell and threw himself down them, skipping four at a time. A note of stress-panic split across his field of vision as the door opened once more above him. He moved faster. 

“Connor!” Nines barked, pausing at the top of the stairs to look down at him. Connor’s foot slipped on the edge of a step. He grabbed for the railing as he saw Nines’s LED go yellow. Was he— No. No, he wouldn’t…

The door to the stairs opened again. Connor couldn’t see, but a voice that was unmistakeably Hank’s rose up, snarling, “What the absolute  _ fuck  _ has gotten into you— Nines? The fuck are you doing?”

Nines said nothing, and Connor quickly realized he would. He  _ absolutely  _ would, and Connor gathered himself and started running as he saw Nines grip the railings and hitch his foot over the top, not bothering to waste processing power on speech when his prey was below. Those cool blue eyes were still on him, still running calculations, and Connor knew it was pointless, already over, but he still descended further even as Nines dropped like a stone down two flights of stairs, landing like a cat right in front of him. 

If he had been any other android, the impact would have shattered his legs. For Nines though, the most technologically advanced model available, all the fall did was force him into a crouch. A crouch he was already rising out of, sinuous and imposing. Connor skidded to a stop, grabbing the railing to do it faster. He ran the calculations. He wouldn’t get past Nines. From the sound of it, Hank was sprinting down the steps. Could he get past Hank? Most likely. Without hurting him though… 

The numbers weren’t in his favor. 

That left fight as his only option, and the numbers weren’t much better in that regard either. Connor eased himself into a steady, solid stance, eyes never leaving Nines for an instant. He couldn’t read Nines’s intentions in the slightest. He had to be upset though. He’d seen everything, felt everything Connor had been feeling about their… their relationship. His hands formed fists at his sides. 

Nines took a step closer. “Connor,” he said lowly, inflection-free and not soothing in the slightest. “Calm down.”

“You first,” Connor snapped back. “Let me go, Nines. Stop following me.”

Narrowing his eyes, Nines shook his head. Of course. Of course he wouldn’t drop it after all he’d seen. Connor couldn’t blame him for that. 

Of course, he also couldn’t just let it end like that. Hank was about halfway down the last remaining staircase. In approximately nine seconds he would reach their landing. If Nines stayed where he was and Connor timed it properly, he could potentially dart past Hank as he stepped onto the landing. Winded as he was from the descent, there would be no chance for Hank to react in time to grab him—

Proximity alarms blared inside Connor’s skull, cutting through his plotting like a hot knife through butter. He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the swipe of Nines’s big hand. His back met a railing. Connor used it as a kickboard, pushing off it and towards the opposite wall as Nines lunged again. 

The time for projections was over. Pure survival took over instead. Connor spun on his heel and made a break for the set of stairs Hank had nearly finished vacating. The man had his hand on the rail; if he got shoved, he’d catch himself. Connor put all of his power into his legs. The slap of his shoes echoed loudly as he took one step, two— 

A hand like an iron claw seized him by the arm, yanking him back and slamming him into the wall.

“Stop running!” Nines ordered as he forcibly shoved Connor into the one corner the landing afforded them. “We just want to talk to you!”

Connor wasn’t much for swearing. He blamed Hank’s influence for the resounding  _ fuck  _ that echoed through his mind as he came to terms with the fact that he was well and truly boxed in. There was nowhere to run. Nines was on one side, and Hank—who had finally managed to join them—was on the other, panting and definitely worse for the sudden wear. Connor felt his spine flatten into the corner of the wall, boxed in so completely that he wondered if anyone walking by could see him at all. Both men were tall, towering over him. A stress response felt natural at a time like this. 

Somehow numbness won out instead.

His eyes fell to the floor. His shoulders slumped. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment they called him out for his jealousy, told him to fuck off and stop prying into their romantic life. It clearly didn’t involve him, did it? He had no right to care so much when they were happy together. 

He tightened his hands into fists at his side. He had no right to either of them when they clearly didn’t want him back. 

Hank, pitched forward with his hands braced on his knees, looked up at Nines and Connor. “What the  _ fuck  _ was that all about?” he demanded through heaving gasps. A flicker of concern passed over Connor at the sound of his heart arrhythmia pounding away like a drum. Had Nines not been taking care of Hank in his absence? Had he stopped going on those morning runs without him?

But now wasn’t the time to think about that. Nines’s eyes were narrowed, and he certainly wasn’t out of breath. He stared at Connor like a predator cornering prey, not at all like the sweet, docile person he was when leaning on Hank’s desk. Connor wondered if begging might get him Nines’s secrecy. He sent a fervent ping to Nines’s operative server but the message rang back as unread. 

“Please,” Connor said out loud, all other options out of reach. “Don’t.”

Hank pushed himself into a hunched standing position. He wiped at the sweat on his brow and heaved out, “Don’t what? Nines? What’s he talking about?”

“Nines,” Connor said, more desperately. 

Nines blinked slowly. “He knows,” he said plainly. “And he’s jealous.”

Hank immediately stopped grumbling about his back. He looked at Nines. Nines looked at Hank. Connor wilted and prayed that the wall might open up and swallow him whole as something unreadable passed between them, an entire conversation spoken in quirked brows and the twitches of Nines’s lips. 

Hank’s eyes shifted to Connor. “Huh.” There was an odd quirk to his lips. Connor didn’t know how to read it. “No shit.”

Connor felt duty-bound to sputter out, “I’m sorry—”

“And you thought the best way to handle that was to sprint out of the room and make a break for the streets?” Hank cut in, crossing his arms as he began to smile. “Jesus, Connor. And I thought I had bad coping methods.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Connor muttered, averting his eyes. “Wait,” he said, lifting them once more. “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

Hank looked to Nines curiously, then back to Connor. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Connor gaped at him. “Why wouldn’t you?” 

Again, Hank looked at Nines. Nines shrugged. Rubbing the back of his neck, Hank sighed, “I mean yeah, you made us chase you and Nines here jumped down a bunch of stairs to grab your flighty ass, but it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve made me run like a fucking idiot.”

“I think you look like an idiot any time you run,” Nines said helpfully, earning himself a snort that only served to confuse Connor all the more. Nines eased out of his threatening pose and relaxed into a much more open position, one that was full of openings. “You should have stopped and let me process a little longer.”

So he could, what? Freak out? Get mad? Connor wrapped his arms around his chest. “Excuse me if I wanted to avoid getting yelled at in the middle of the bullpen,” he said quietly. The stairwell wasn’t much better—the yelling would just echo worse—but at least it was empty. At least there was no audience here. 

Nines frowned. “Yell? You surprised me, Connor. That’s all.”

Connor froze. He didn’t dare to simulate breathing for fear of breaking whatever illusion he’d just found himself within. “What?” he whispered, refusing to look at either of them. How could they not be angry? After all Nines had seen, how could he not hate him?

“Jealous, right?” Hank murmured, clearly addressing Nines. “We talked about that before. Can’t believe you were right about him knowing. I figured we’d have to bring it up ourselves, but I guess this is easier?”

It was Nines’s turn to snort. “I jumped down two flights of stairs, Hank,” he said dryly. “Easier for whom?”

Hank laughed, still a little breathless but absolutely not angry. Connor lifted his head woodenly. 

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” he asked hoarsely. “I was… I invaded your privacy.”

He flinched when a heavy hand settled on his shoulder. Hank squeezed firmly, warmly. Connor struggled yet again not to lean into it, especially with Nines right there, in the know. 

“Privacy?” Hank asked, wrinkling his nose. “If you saw us in the bullpen then it’s on us for being too obvious.”

“I…” Connor looked at Nines pitifully, waiting for him to rat him out. There were so many fantasies that slipped through that interface exchange. “I just…”

But Nines didn’t rat him out. He just looked at Connor with a slight, knowing smile.  _ You’re an idiot,  _ came through in a silent message that Connor hadn’t expected to be sent. “He saw us a few more times than that. He likes us,” Nines said smugly. “The both of us. A lot. And he definitely liked what he saw.”

Connor sputtered, “Nines!” Nines, of course, preened like he’d just done something helpful. 

“Oh,” Hank mused after a beat of silence. “Then it’s a good thing we both like him a lot too then, isn’t it?”

Connor turned his head woodenly. His hands hung limply at his sides now. He blinked dumbly at Hank. “What?” He couldn’t have heard that right. Maybe the repairs he’d gotten were faulty in some way. Some malfunction in his auditory sensors. Some reality-warping perception-altering error code in his software. 

“I think I broke him. His LED’s flickering like a strobe light. Cute.” Hank moved his hand from Connor’s shoulder to wrap around the back of his neck. He tugged him closer, pulling him out of the corner. “You’re an idiot for thinking we’d be pissed that you wanted to join in.”

“I—”

“Really, Connor,” Nines chimed in, his hand falling to cup Connor’s hip. “We were trying to be patient.”

Connor felt thirium rush to his cheeks. “That’s…”

Hank chose that moment to dip down, to press a kiss to his lips before he could finish. It was fast, quick, there and gone again in the blink of an eye. Connor locked up and parted his lips in a silent gasp. Nines hummed softly, his version of a laugh. Hank patted his cheek fondly.

“You still with us, Con?”

Connor opened his mouth. It didn’t surprise him when nothing came out. 

They both kept touching him. They didn’t seem in any hurry to stop, and he was in no hurry to make them. It was definitely more than he expected. More than he’d ever let himself dream. He felt hyper-aware of their hands on him, still so chaste while their eyes and tone promised anything but. Arousal stirred in the pit of his stomach. The feeling was as unique as jealousy had been, but it didn’t take weeks of careful stalking to know which he preferred to feel. 

The snippets of conversation rolled through his mind rapid-fire fast. With the new information pressed against his body, he reevaluated it all, re-contextualized it. His eyes widened. The corners of his lips curled upwards. They’d been waiting for him to show interest. They’d been waiting for him all this time.

That was fine. Great. Amazing— 

“Stop it with the damn thinking already,” Hank advised, grabbing Connor by the chin for another kiss. 

Nines darted in when Hank let him go. “You’ve clearly done more than enough for all of us combined.”

Fair enough, Connor thought, the last coherent thought they let him have. 

He definitely had better things to be doing now anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> woot there you have it! if you liked this consider leaving a comment down below to let me know, and if you wanna see more of my work check me out on twitter @tdcloud_writes for more dbh funtimes and on my website tdcloudofficial.com for my original fiction! until next time!


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